


One Thousand Ways to Say Goodbye

by stickmarionette



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - First Anime, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ed peeled off his remaining glove and dropped it to the dusty ground.  That took care of some of the smell, but there was no helping the rest, splattered all over his previously pristine uniform.</i>  Ed has some curious encounters while on patrol and finds some resolution at last.  (Or, what happens when I try to write hurt/comfort.)</p><p>Written in 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thousand Ways to Say Goodbye

Ed peeled off his remaining glove and dropped it to the dusty ground. That took care of some of the smell, but there was no helping the rest, splattered all over his previously pristine uniform. He itched to clean himself, but didn't dare – the light of alchemy would attract far too much attention.

_And that's why I hate patrol duty._

None of the remaining State Alchemists stuck out here wanted to pick the short straw for this particular double-edged job, alternately horribly boring and horribly dangerous. Even the blessed solitude was no equivalent exchange.

He liked to draft letters to Al on his strolls, letters that will never be sent as long as the supply lines remain unstable.

_Dear Al:_

How is everything back home? Winry and the shop doing alright? Is Aunt Pinako still holding up?

I hope the blockage isn't affecting you guys – believe me, I've learned to live without practically everything, and it isn't nice. They've still got us surrounded, and –

Well. That was the other reason for his reluctance to write home. There was virtually no good news to report, none at all.

_The 'good news' is that I'm still alive. The bad news is that we'll be lucky to live through the coming week._

No, that was not the kind of letter he wanted to send.

Ed snapped to full attention at the sound of a distant explosion, even though it was too far away to be of any real consequence. Consequence was a hard tutor, after all, and he had enough wounds on his body for that particular reaction to have become instinct.

Roy used to lecture him terribly on the subject. It drove Ed crazy, or at least it did before his first surprise encounter with a Drachman alchemist.

The mere memory was enough to make his entire left side – or at least the parts that were still human – ache with phantom pain.

_We learnt one thing, at least – wars are easily won when you use alchemists,_ Roy had said, one particular evening when he was well and truly smashed.

Roy had been a nasty, bitter drunk. It was enlightening, to say the least, and Ed could not help a small grin at the memory.

_You know, Roy, you were wrong. _

Wars are easily won when only one side has alchemists. A war fought with alchemy is something else entirely.

Snap.

The sound was oddly familiar and even though his mind told him _don't be stupid, it's impossible, an enemy, attack –_

Even though he knew well enough the futility of it, that sound had always made him relax a little and the habit wasn't broken. Yet.

So even though he touched his left hand to his right and pivoted, primed to attack, he did not use the momentum of the turn to launch into an actual offensive.

_Which is what you should do, idiot._

The sight that greeted him brought a moment of mind-numbing shock followed closely by a strange sort of clarity. It was the sort of calm that could only be bought on by sheer obsessive focus, and he certainly didn't lack that.

Well, that and blinding rage. He knew this particular tall, mousy-haired Drachman by sight.

_You. Are. Going. To. Die._

The other alchemist still had the fingers of his right hand bunched together from the taunting snap earlier. The sight made Ed narrow his eyes, seething.

"You."

The Drachman inclined his head in acknowledgement and dropped his hand, too clever to push one of Amestris' best alchemists further.

He did smirk a little, though, replying in heavily accented Amestrian. "I'm flattered you remember me, Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed only smiled like a shark and silently plotted the man's demise. _How should I do this, Roy?_

"Of course I remember you," he said quietly.

_Ah. Yes. That would do._

He slid the regulation combat knife out of its holster in full view of the Drachman, slow and careful.

The other man smiled too. "Going to fight me hand to hand? I thought you were smarter."

_I am. Smarter than you, at least._

Nevertheless, the man wasn't an idiot, his hand straying inconspicuously towards the array on his armband while he spoke.

Ed could only grin savagely at that.

_Too late._

The knife made a beautiful sound as he slid it against his automail hand, but it was still nowhere near the delight of hearing a spark hissing to life.

_Perfect._

For him, alchemy was easy - only will and contact and picturing the array.

He had will now, so much of it he could burst, and then there was the array itself - _this is what it looks like – _

you better be watching, bastard -

and enjoying it too -

this heat and light and power -

_this is_ fire.

That was how Roy found him, surrounded by a wall of flame, the crackle of ozone, the stink of burning flesh and the barely recognizable remains of what used to be a Drachman alchemist.

It was a while before Ed allowed the flames to die, a while before Roy could come any closer, and that was fine – killing with alchemy always made him inhuman for a while, or at least completely incapable of human interaction. He didn't want Roy to see that.

This time was slightly different, though. This time, mixed in with the strange rush of alchemy and the numbness of those first few moments of denial was a sense of triumph.

Triumph so strong that it shook him where he stood, or maybe that was the effort of doing so much foreign alchemy – he was too busy trying to remain standing to care.

"I got him, Roy," he said, tired and horrified but somehow elated.

The other man took a cautious step towards him, eyes unreadable. "I know."

_Strange, isn't the shaking supposed to get better?_

Ed staggered the last few steps to the other man's side, but what started out as an expansive gesture ended with him falling against the other man and whispering "I got him," again and again into Roy's shoulder.

Roy only sighed and shifted to support him better when he would have flinched before at the contact. "I know, Ed. Now come back to camp so you can go see the medics."

Ed's legs refused to support him, but he still had enough energy left to shake his head. "I'm not hurt," he said, laughing harshly in between the words. "The blood's not mine."

He sounded normal enough to his own ears, but Roy has always had a good grasp of his moods. One of the hands previously clutching at his uniform jacket to keep him upright shifted to his back and started to sketch soothing circles instead.

"It doesn't get easier."

Ed shuts his eyes. "I know that. That's not it."

A pause this time before Roy spoke again, tone soft as if aware that he was treading in dangerous territory.

"Then what?"

It was difficult, so damn difficult to open his eyes and look into Roy's face for this, but he tried anyway. "I don't feel bad about this one, you know."

"Why?" Roy asked quietly, and –

_What the hell – how can you have the audacity to sound surprised?_

"You _know_ why," Ed snarled.

The other man frowned. "Why in such a gruesome manner?"

Maybe there was some strength left in his body, because he could still clutch at Roy's jacket and glare twin daggers into his eyes.

"You're asking me why? He - "

"I know," Roy said, quiet and pained.

"_He shot you in the back!_"

Roy flinched at that and Ed was suddenly _exhausted_, as if the admission itself had cost more than all that flashy alchemy.

Maybe it did. Ed forced his shaky legs to work again and extracted himself from Roy's hold as carefully as he could. After all, he knew what was coming, and there was no sense in dragging it out.

There was an odd expression on Roy's face when he looked again, somehow terrifying in its unfamiliarity.

"Thank you," he whispered, oddly hesitant.

Ed blinked twice, shocked. That was a departure from the usual routine.

_I guess the occasion warrants it._

He smiled as much as he dared, painfully and honestly. "I guess you can rest peacefully now."

_Know that you are avenged._

Roy only shook his head wordlessly and held up one hand to forestall Ed's protest. With the other he reached into a pocket and pulled out a bundle of white.

_I…is that…?_

Ed could only stare, astonished, as Roy pressed the bundle into his hand and closed his fingers around it before turning to walk away.

"Keep going. You have a goal, don't you?" tossed over his shoulder casually and Ed opened his mouth to protest before he realized –

_It's true. I have a place to go back to, after all._

He had to keep moving, somehow, no matter what happened.

Still, Ed couldn't take his eyes off Roy's retreating back, even when the other man's form became blurry, indistinct, the sunlight beginning to pierce through him; even as he faded away, the last vestiges lingering like smoke before disappearing entirely.

_Rest in peace._

I'll be just fine.

He made his way back to camp through a confused haze of unshed tears, grief and hard triumph, only to be accosted by one of the Lieutenants under his command. Normally Ed would feel a headache coming on at the mere sight of him, but today there was nothing, only hard, clear focus.

"Colonel Elric?"

He wondered for one long, terrible moment what they would want him for – surely Brigadier General Mustang –

_Ah._

"Gather all the remaining officers and alchemists."

"Sir?"

"We're going to get out of here," he said, eyes bright.

The brief relieved, almost _worshipful_ expression on the Lieutenant's face didn't surprise him in the least.

_Let's get out of here._

Ed smiled fiercely for himself and pulled on his dead General's gloves.


End file.
